Changes
by Bones365
Summary: Their relationship was practically perfect, but no one, not even they, knew how much better it could get.
1. Chapter 1

It was odd, they always thought, how completely changed the other two had been when they came back. Not only that they changed, but how they continued to change. It was rarely spoken of out loud, never referred to in _their_ company, but looks and raised or furrowed brows could be seen passing over huge, food-laden tables, or floating across happy, quiet, and sleepily-sated sitting rooms.

They hadn't changed for the worse. In fact it was the opposite: their taking-on of their places in the world and quietly stepping into previously huge and terrifying shoes to find that they were the perfectly right size. Everyone could see that they were both better because of the change.

Even her.

Especially her.

Previously everyone thought that it had been _he_ who was most likely to change for _her. _That he was not quite beneath her, exactly, but just hardly with her. She who was smart and clever and charming enough that she could make people like her. She would be the one to find her very own place in the world. She would cross bridges no one had dared before, and make a name for herself.

Everyone un-spokenly assumed that he, on the other hand, would fall into a life of slightly elevated mediocrity. That he would like his job and his place in life and love _her._ She would be the bright spot in his life and though he was just as loved by her as she was by him, she would find room for true accomplishments, on her own, without him.

This was what people thought of them, of their future together, and the two both knew it. Both were willing and ready to accept their allotted places in life, because they had been planning this for themselves all along. Having the other was icing on the cake. A pleasure that both had yearned for, but also expected.

They had known for years that there was no other for them and now, having lived their

lives to the fullest and youngest and most dangerous possible, were ready to solidify what both had been sure of since the age of fifteen (though she had been sure of it since thirteen).

So while their relationship was fun, tingly, and new, it was still part of the plan, which was perfect. Neither them nor the others could possibly know how much better it could get.

oOo

It was Harry Potter who was the first to notice a bit of what was to come. This was partially because he was their best friend, therefore with them the most, but also for another reason.

You see, Harry Potter, a few short weeks earlier, had died.

Not only had he died, but he'd been resurrected: brought back a minute later to save the world from certain doom. As a result, Harry had begun to see just what his justified self-centeredness over the past few years had caused him to miss.

Namely, the things he'd thought about on his walk into the forest. He now paid special attention to these things.

He was there for their first meeting, their first hug, first kiss. He would be there, later, for their engagement and their wedding, the birth of their first and second born, though none of them knew about any of that yet. Because he'd been there so often, for the big _and_ small moments, Harry felt a sort of cautiously fond and detached affection for the fledgling relationship.

Harry well knew that if things went sour, his life would be altered. Though he knew he would still see them both, refusing to give up one for the other, one would have to be left behind and, even while telling himself that he couldn't possibly choose one over the other, he knew it would be hard not to see her as much.

Knowing this, it is perfectly reasonable to say that, besides the two, themselves, Harry Potter was the happiest and most affected by the change. But I digress. Perhaps, first, you would like to know what the change was, and how it came about, before I tell you of its happily shocking and well-noticed effects?


	2. Chapter 2

*Harry's Pov*

I remember that morning so clearly.

After the battle, I tried to remember everything clearly. I would wake up and just inhale, fill my lungs to capacity and wonder at everything that had gone right. I didn't like to remember what had gone wrong so early, and still don't. Mourning is best done later in the day.

Morning became hopeful for me. I still associate the sunrise with gratefulness, awe, and sometimes the smell of Ginny's hair on my pillow. That morning was one of those.

I never really found out how Ron felt about me sharing my attic cot with his baby sister, even if all we were doing was sleeping…mostly… Anyway, I remember that day particularly because Ginny was upset. All the sadness and horrors heaped onto her during the war were still fresh, but on top of that, Ron and Hermione were leaving that day to go fetch Hermione's parents.

I woke up to her trying to get closer to me, as if that was possible in the tiny twin bed. I knew what she needed and pulled her tightly, perhaps too tightly, against me, needing comfort, too.

"I'm worried." She said, playing with my fingers. I knew what she meant. Ron and Hermione were dealing with the war's events as well, better than the rest of us, though. I think it's because they finally had each other.

Whatever the reason, the feeling of being around them was soothing. They were a constant source of comfort to me. Everyone was, but with them, it was different.

I suppose that's when the change really began. There had always been a sense of the volatile around Ron and Hermione. All their fights and tension whipped around them. They were predictably unpredictable in what would set one or both of them off.

I know now it was because they were in love and had no other way to show it, but still, it was what I had secretly enjoyed for years about my best friends. If two people, seemingly so dissimilar and completely wrong for each other could stay friends, then maybe a screwed-up little orphan savior could lead a normal life.

In my mind this makes perfect sense, so just go with it. But then, the change.

The chemistry between Ron and Hermione seemed to immediately adapt necessarily. She held him while he cried and he held her hair after she drank too much at a memorial ceremony. There was a sense of security wrapped inexplicably around them. That was the beginning of the change.

They had disappeared one night and re-appeared the next morning different. They were surrounded by a feeling of rightness that I soaked up like a sponge. I was with them a lot, those days, trying to cope and loving those two people who seemed so sure of _something_, even if it was just the other.

I think everyone took comfort in them. In the fact that they could be seen at family dinners, amid the silent, tense, gatherings, completely at ease. It was peaceful to see him bush his fingers across the back of her neck as he passed by, see her lean back against him on the couch and fall asleep. Everyone watched this, our one source of happiness in a period of crippling sadness.

But now they were about to leave. Here's when I first noticed it. At first, it seemed like nothing that Ron should go with Hermione. It was simple, expected. But the more I thought about it, the more puzzled I was. Why did he want this? It made no sense.

Ron had maybe met her parents twice. Maybe. Surely she wanted to go alone? Surely she wanted to see her only family and revive them, tell them about the war by herself? It would be messy and emotional and those things weren't exactly Ron's cup of tea.

Besides that, Hermione had always been so independent. She spelled them herself. Couldn't she fix them alone as well? My conclusion was that Ron didn't want her to leave, and I was struck by how pathetic this was.

Don't get me wrong, Ron's a great guy and all, but his brother had just died, along with countless other friends, and he was fixating on Hermione. Hadn't _he_ left us in the woods? She was strong enough to stay, but he wasn't strong enough to let her leave?

The more I thought about it, the more certain I was, and Ginny thought so, too. Whenever I tried to bring it up, he would just shake his head and say something like, "Don't worry about it" or "I just have to", which had really just solidified my thoughts.

That morning, though, laying with Ginny practically on top of me, trying to take in as much of her as possible before she had to sneak out, I wasn't so sure I wouldn't do the same, but I tried not to think too much about that.

Ron came in from wherever he had slept with Hermione that night (probably Hermione's twin mattress on Ginny's vacated room floor), and Ginny left, meaning I had to try and sleep without her the last few hours before the house woke up.

Ron was pulling last minute clothes into his bag.

"So how long are you going to be gone?" I asked. Surely five, six days tops would be enough to put things in order. Maybe seven for sightseeing?

"Three weeks."

My eyes, previously closed, snapped open.

"What?!" I sat up and put on my glasses. "Why? It won't take that long, will it?" Ron shrugged and kept packing. "Does your mum know?" I demanded, my mind still blown at the idea of them being gone for almost a month. Ron sighed and turned around to face me.

"Yeah, and she doesn't like it."

"Well neither to I! We need you both here. It's like-" I stopped myself but Ron knew me too well.

"It's like we've already forgotten? Like I don't realize every day that my own brother is dead? Or Lupin or Tonks or any of them?" He sat down on his bed. "Look, I know. We still haven't forgotten. I'm a bloody wreck and she's not much better. We just…We need a break."

I noticed the bags under his eyes and the lines on his face. He looked tired, but so did the rest of us. Suddenly, I remembered Ron after he'd saved his first goal in Quidditch, and suddenly, I remembered that we weren't _supposed_ to look like this. Not even close.

"We?" I asked, and he shook his head.

"Yeah." He scrubbed a hand over his face and snorted a laugh. "I'm a 'we', now. An 'us'." He went back to packing and I lay back down. I paused, not really wanting to ask, but…

"Are you going to marry her?"

"Yes." I winced at the certainty there, the complete lack of a pause. No consideration, just the truth. He didn't turn back around.

"I mean not now, obviously, but yeah. Three, maybe four years from now?" I nodded silently at the ceiling beams.

A lot of people think that we're too young at eighteen to be thinking about this stuff, but in our lives, young was at about twelve years old. We grew up fast and we grew up together. Honestly, I couldn't see it going any other way. Ron snorted and closed his bag, dumping it on the floor.

"I've practically been married to her for years now, anyway." I grinned back because it was true. Ron lay down and tried to get a few more hours of sleep.

At breakfast, Mrs. Weasley was in a state. She was slamming pots and pans, practically throwing eggs at a bowl, and chopping bacon strips with unnecessary force. Hermione sat in her chair, looking pale, and grimacing whenever the pan/egg/cleaver went down. None of us tried to make conversation.

Standing in front of the fireplace later, we all said goodbye and were all thinking how empty we would be without them and their security. Ron murmured something in Mrs. Weasley's ear, and when she let him go she nodded, saying, "I know."

Hermione stepped into the fireplace looking tense. She raised her head to say the address, and her eyes fell on Ron, who would follow right behind her. In that one split-second, she looked so scared, vulnerable, that I actually stepped forward to hold onto her, to shelter her in some way. But then she was gone and so was Ron.

Mrs. Weasley, later that day, was an odd mix of sad, hopeful, and resigned. I was forced to face facts. Ron wasn't leaving because he wanted to. When he had said, "We need a break," what he'd meant was, "_She_ needs a break." Hermione was the one who hadn't wanted to be without _him._

It seemed I didn't know my friends as well as I thought, and that one of them was stronger than I'd ever imagined.


	3. Chapter 3

*A week earlier*

*Hermione Pov*

"I have to go get my mum and dad." I said. Beside me, Ron was silent.

We were lying in a clearing in the woods. We came here almost every day since that first night. It was green and mossy. Somewhere in the forest, water trickled and birds sang. The sun warmed my bare toes and my bare back and I was nervous. Ron rolled toward me and his hand reached to stroke down my spine.

"I know." He said, and my skin tingled in the wake of his fingers. I hesitated, still nervous.

"Do you think…Do you think we could go together?" His hand stopped moving.

"You and me?" I turned my head to look at him.

"Yes, you and me. 'We.' 'Us.'" He rolled onto is back and my finger itched to feel his abs, trace his biceps, but I stayed still. This was important.

"How long?" He asks.

"A week, maybe." He frowns and I know where he's coming from. Being here, with his family, the family that had also become mine so long ago, I never wanted to leave. Ron and I had become some symbol of hope, love. Life could go on through the death. Also, just being around them after so long apart, worrying and wondering whether or not I'd ever see them again (w_e'd _ever see them again), was so amazing.

But at the same time, it was hard. There was a lot of pressure on Ron and me to be happy together, sad about the war, uncertain about the future. It was weighing down on both of us.

"It's tiring." Ron had said earlier, "I'm so sick of people expecting things of me." I brought it up again now, bribing him a little.

"We could just go and be Ron and Hermione for a bit." I whispered. Because wouldn't that be wonderful because in all this chaos and war and heartbreak, we didn't really know what "just being Ron and Hermione" really meant, but I had this idea that it would be just incredible.

He smiled lopsidedly. "Just Ron and Hermione? We, us?" he asked. I laughed and scooted closer.

"Yeah. We, us." He kissed me and pulled back to quickly. I settled my head on his shoulder, and his arms came up around me.

I loved moments like this. A week ago, in this same spot, we had both lost our virginity. It was fantastic, surprisingly. Sure there had been the initial obligatory fumbling, but just before "it" happened, he bent down to kiss me. We suddenly clicked.

It was like we'd done it a thousand times before. Since then, we couldn't seem to keep our hands off each other, and not even in a completely sexual way. Holding hands, pulling his arm around my waist, feeling our legs press together under the table, and yes, the sex as well, but it was all beautiful, all incredible.

I wanted to melt into him, just seep into his pores, somehow and hide. The great thing about Ron was that he knew this, and did his best. Even now he was pulling me closer against him, twining our legs, fingers, arms. Protecting me. Covering me as much as he could, just because I wanted it.

"I'll have to think about it." It took me a second to realize that he was talking about Australia. I nodded, trying not to make a fuss about it.

We lay there for another hour before pulling on our clothes and walking back to the house.

oOo

We were lying on my mattress together late that night when he brought it up.

"Why d'you want 'we,us' to go anyway? Don't you want some time to be with them? Get away from all this?"

"Don't you?" I replied, wishing he would just say yes.

"Of course I do, but they're my family. And Harry. I'm not sure we can leave him on his own yet." I shook my head.

For the rest of time, all the history books would sing Harry's praises, tell of his amazing feats with his two dutiful best friends by his side. None of the books would talk about how his dutiful best friends had to consider him in almost every decision that we made.

We didn't mind or resent it. Honestly, we'd been looking out for him for so long it was second nature, but sometime I wondered just what Ron and I would do if we didn't have to worry about Harry. Looking back, sometimes taking care of him had been our glue, later on, maybe it was more of a barrier.

Certainly without him, we'd talk about different things, do different things. I've always wondered if we would have gotten together sooner, or at all, but that isn't the case. We _did _and _do_ have to worry about Harry. We had to be his dutiful best friends, and I knew Ron was right. We couldn't both leave now.

"So you'll stay."

Ron nodded. "I'll stay."

I sighed.

"And I'll go." Ron was silent, but pulled me against him, right where I wanted to be. But I knew soon I'd have to leave. We went to sleep already missing each other.

I jolted awake, tears streaming down my face. I was shaking so hard I woke Ron, who was instantly concerned. He sat and hauled me into his lap. He kept asking what had happened. Searching the room frantically for some disturbance, his wand already out. That's what the war did to people.

Tears kept falling, and finally the shaking subsided enough that I could speak.

"Just a dream." I whimpered, burying my face in the crook of his neck, letting him rock me a bit too fast.

"Not 'just a dream' if it's got you like this." He kissed my still shaking head, hands. "What was it about?" Believe it or not, Ron's a big proponent of talking things out. He's seen Harry bottle things up too often, then explode.

"It wasn't very s-s-substantial. It was a b-bit disconnected. But…I-I was alone. It was r-really dark and…and Harry kept s-s-screaming and I knew I was in Hogwarts in the dungeons, but I was lost and I-I knew th-that you were s-somewhere with me, b-b-but I didn't know wh-where a-and I j-j-just…"


	4. Chapter 4

*Ron's Pov*

I'd be laughing if I weren't so concerned. Only Hermione can say things like "substantial" and "disconnected" while weeping. But she _is_ absolutely sobbing and it's getting worse as she tells me about that damned dream.

I can feel my chest tightening, which is dangerous.

It's a bit of a secret, but I can never say no to Hermione. I can't really deny her anything once she flat out asks for it, requests it of me, whatever you want to say. My mind's already made up.

"I'm coming with you." She keeps crying, but it softens, my heart de-constricts a little. I shouldn't have tried to say no to begin with. She's not saying anything but she's not shaking as much. In a minute, she'll try and fight me on it.

She'll say it's not logical and the cons outweigh the pros, but she wants me to go, so she won't last long. To tell the truth, I wasn't crazy about the thought of leaving her, anyway. I didn't have to pretend with her that my brother wasn't dead. I could be sad, absolutely in pieces, broken up about it, and she'd just love me and not expect anything else from me.

But wasn't I doing the same for her? Our relationship was a nice getaway from the pretending that went on in the public eye. Together we really were just "we, us", which I liked a lot more than I'd ever admit to anyone.

She _did _fight me on it. Using the logical, pro-con argument (I know her so well). But after a while, I stopped her. She had been talking about Harry saying, "It's important that-"

"Hermione, stop." We were sitting on the bed, both covered by a sheet, facing each other. "_You_ are what's important to me. Ok? Harry can fend for himself for a week. I'm coming with you." She held my gaze and we stared at each other for a bit before she closed her eyes and leaned forward, resting her head on my chest.

"Thank you."

I kissed the top of her head. After that, she went back to sleep, but I stayed up all night long.

For one, I have to admit, waking up to her like that had scared me. It wasn't the first time it had happened, but the dreams had started in the war, in that bloody tent. She would be thrashing around in her bunk, and I'd wake her up, sit with her, once or twice I had to actually get into bed with her, just to let her sleep. I got really good at sneaking around Harry, those days.

Secondly, I was laying there thinking about "we, us." I had to admit that I had absolutely no idea what that concept meant. The "we, us" Hermione and I used to be was no more, poof, gone. Like my brother.

But it wasn't sad like a death. It was so happy, but we couldn't be truly happy, truly "we, us" in the middle of this house. I loved this house, this family, but I had risen from ickle-Ronniekins to the rock the stood on. I didn't mind.

It was nice to be needed, and honestly having that responsibility, all their weight on me, was holding me down and keeping me sane, but it was starting to wear. Hermione felt it, too, maybe even more than me, because while I was holding them up, she was holding me up. Honestly, I had no idea how she did it.

Staring down at her, I knew we couldn't go on like this for too much longer, but a week of taking care of someone else's parents wasn't going to do the trick. I had a full blown plan by the time she woke up.

"Two weeks." She blinked up at me, frowning.

"What?"

"Two weeks away. One for your parents and after that, we'll stay behind. For a week." She was staring at me like I was crazy, but I wasn't. She'd figure it out. She was such a smart girl. There it was.

Her face cleared and a huge smile opened up to me.

"You want to take a vacation?" she asked, still grinning, and now I knew there was no going back. Not after that smile. I nodded. She pulled me down for a kiss that turned into much more.

Later in the day, we were laying in our clearing, just talking. Something had been bothering her, though. I asked her about it and she pressed her lips together.

"I'm…nervous. Scared? No, maybe anxious. I'm anxious about seeing my parents." She looked up at me, but I didn't know what to say.

"Why?" Yes, well, she _is_ the brains of the "we, us" operation, so that was the best I could do.

"I want them to be happy. I just want to see them how they are to see…just to see if I did the right thing. I want… I don't know." But she did know. She had just told me. I pulled her closer, and the third week was born. She didn't like it at first, but I'm a planner, so I got her eventually.

"Three weeks, love. One to look after your mum and dad, one to get them home, one for "we, us."" Yeah, like I said, I could never really say no to her.

When I told my mum, I thought she was going to cry, which would have broken me. I hadn't gotten to the point, yet, when I'd have to choose between her and Hermione, but I knew who I would pick, even though I loved my mum so much. But she didn't cry.

She looked at me for a long time, but she didn't say anything. Then, she just stood up and walked away. I didn't bring it up after that.

She was really upset the morning of, but it was better than the silence. Later, in front of the fire, I pulled her into a hug.

"She needs me, mum." I murmured. She nodded as she pulled away.

"I know." She said. As Hermione was about to floo, she looked at me and was panicked. Harry was so worried, but I could have told him that she was going to be ok. _We_ were going to be ok. And just thinking that, something changed a bit inside me. I threw the powder down, and spun away.


End file.
